


My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark

by brizamartian



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Fucking Everything, Awkward Kissing, Boys Kissing, Crushes, Cuddling, Cute, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Handholding, Hugs, Humor, I drop f-bombs because I'm a potty mouth, I'll try to keep it teen, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, P.S. When I say mild language I really mean infrequent, Romance, So much blushing, Stupidity, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wordcount: 500-1.000, but I've never actually done that before so, headcanon dump, uh, we'll see, will tag as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brizamartian/pseuds/brizamartian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set somewhere in the Winter Cup type area, we take a look at what the hell goes on with the boys when they're not on the court. It goes something like: pretending they don't like each other, going on awkward definitely-not-dates-no-no-no, certainly not kissing (cause that would be weird), totally not cuddling (cause that'd be weird too), absolutely trying to get on each other's nerves, being completely terrible gooey mush puddles, and, in Furihata's case, trying not to have a stupid crush on someone who may or may not want to kill him slowly with a pair of scissors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Wanna Hold Your Hand (KasaKise)

**Author's Note:**

> Soooooo, I can never just be content writing one fanfic apparently. And I've been suffering from writer's block that finally seems to be lifting. AND I'm back home from college, and whenever that happens I have so much time on my hands from the not-cooking, not-cleaning, and not-being-an-adult-right-now thing, that fan fiction just seems to happen. In other words, I got it in my head this morning to write a series of short 500-1000 word ficlets about my favorite pairings on their days off. Because WE ALL KNOW that they hang out with each other when they aren't playing. So I'm thinking, "the fuck is they doing all day?" Well here you go. My massive headcanon dump. Each chapter (and the title) is named after a song in some way btw, and I'll be putting the pairing in the chapter in parentheses. Enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. I am a comment whore. Help a girl out and leave me one? *smooches*

Ryouta’s having a decidedly good day today. He strolls out of his photo shoot, humming an obnoxious pop tune to himself, a light skip in his designer-booted step.

Being a model is fun. You get to flip your hair around, wear nice clothes, and have people gawk at you all day. There’s nothing better.

His phone rings in his back pocket as he throws his Prada shades on, feeling himself, _obviously_. A quick peek at the message reveals…

“Senpai!” he squeals to himself, pushing his new fedora higher on his head to read the message. It says: Meet me at the café.

Ryouta doesn’t have to wonder _which_ café; he knows the one. 

He pops his earbuds in, strutting quick and light towards the little café just a few blocks down. He plays the song he’d been humming. 

His humming would no doubt annoy Kasamatsu-senpai, most likely earning him a slap or a kick or a jab, but Ryouta doesn’t really mind it so much anymore; he knows Kasamatsu-senpai only hits him because he cares. At least that’s what he tells himself. Also, it gives Ryouta an excuse to touch him, which is also welcome. 

He hums a little louder, bobbing his head from side to side happily as he approaches. The cute little bell over the door announces his entry and he sees Kasamatsu-senpai sitting at the corner table, a drink in his hand and another one across from him.

Ryouta plants his (cute) tush down in the seat across from him, beaming. “Kasamatsu-senpai!” he greets fondly. He’s so, so fond of him, it’s ridiculous.

Kasamatsu-senpai glares at him. “I got your favorite,” he says grudgingly, a little blush appearing on his cheeks, and a cute little wrinkle forming between his eyebrows as if he’s just embarrassed at the prospect of being nice to someone.

“Aww, thank you senpai.” Ryouta accepts the drink happily, sipping and humming while Kasamatsu-senpai glares angrily at him and everything else in the room. Ryouta doesn’t take it personally anymore. Kasamatsu-senpai always looks like that.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Ryouta asks. As much as he’d like to believe his captain had finally fallen victim to his charms, he doubted he’d just asked him out on a date.

“Yeah,” Kasamatsu hedges. “Finish your drink.”

Ryouta shrugs. It’s his favorite after all, finishing it certainly isn’t a chore.

“Photo shoot?” Kasamatsu asks, glaring as he does. He glances over Ryouta’s decidedly more-fashionable-than-usual attire including his brand new cashmere cardigan, and Prada sunglasses.

“Mm-hm.”

Kasamatsu-senpai sighs. “Right.” He sips his own drink lightly, in tiny little spurts, lips puckering and un-puckering as he does. 

Ryouta attempts not-staring, and then gives up.

His senpai catches him of course. “What?” he snaps.

Ryouta shakes his head innocently, because he absolutely wasn’t (definitely was) imagining what it’d be like to kiss his senpai. Probably great. And sweet like the fruity smoothie he’s drinking. And maybe a little rough, but that’s ok. Not that he was thinking about it or anything. He wasn’t.

“Let’s walk,” Kasamatsu says, standing.

“‘Kay,” Ryouta chimes, following him out the door.

It’s cold outside. That’s why Ryouta scoots closer to his senpai, sleeves just barely brushing. That’s definitely (not) why.

Kasamatsu, surprisingly, doesn’t move away. Ryouta reasons that he must be cold too. “How’s your foot?” he asks.

Ryouta’s eyes snap open wide. “You know?”

Kasamatsu glares at him from the corner of his pretty blue eyes. Ryouta likes his eyes. He could drown in them. “Of course,” he snorts. “I’m your captain, it’s my job to know.”

Ryouta shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“We’re playing Fukuda,” his senpai reminds. “We can’t take them lightly.”

Ryouta turns serious. “I know that. I really do.”

Kasamatsu stares at him for a long while. “Hey!” he snaps. “You’re getting that look. Don’t do that.”

“What look?”

“That look that says ‘I’ll take him on by myself.’” He cocks his head to the side. “Hayazaki, right?”

Ryouta nods. 

“Well,” And at this Kasamatsu jabs his fist into Ryouta’s side, eliciting a sting of half repressed “ows” in response. “You _don’t_ have to. You’ve got a team to back you up. You’ve got me. Don’t take us lightly.”

Ryouta smiles, feeling all warm and fuzzy like he does whenever Kasamatsu-senpai says something remotely encouraging/nice/not mean. Without a thought he takes the fist that’s trying to burrow it’s way under his rib cage into his hand and holds it. “I know, senpai. I know you’ve got my back.”

Kasamatsu is silent for a while. He stares briefly at the hand holding his and then back to Ryouta. A very pink blush occupies his cheeks. He doesn’t let go of Ryouta’s hand though, just turns forward, giving it a hard squeeze, and says. “Don’t forget it.”

Ryouta looks at the hand, warm and still very much in his and he feels like he could vibrate out of his own skin in happiness. Kasamatsu-senpai is actually _holding his fucking hand._

Ryouta squeezes back. “I won’t.” 

They walk hand-in-hand in silence for the rest of the way to the bus stop. Kasamatsu-senpai doesn’t say anything about it and neither does Ryouta. 

Instead of a goodbye, his senpai punches him in the arm. “See you later,” he says as he does everything: angrily.

 _God, he’s cute as hell._ Ryouta nods, kisses him on the forehead before he can think better of it, and practically skips all the way home, leaving his senpai standing there, dumbfounded for several seconds before finally shaking his head and turning to wait for the bus.

Ryouta looks back once, and, yup, there it is. 

The smile.

Yeah, definitely a good day. 

###### Song:

 _I Want To Hold Your Hand_ by The Beatles


	2. I Would Walk 500 Miles (MidoTaka)

Shintaro stares at the shoe in his right hand and then the one in his left. He repeats this process several times in short succession.

He hears a yawn to his right and spots Takao snoozing on the bench.

The bench where people put their butts to try on shoes. 

That can’t be sanitary.

“Takao,” Shintaro snaps.

“Who died?!” Takao shrieks as he yanked from sleep.

Shintaro sighs. “Which one?” Shintaro asks, holding the two shoes up for him to inspect.

Takao squints at them and then starts cackling, which is unbelievably annoying. “They’re the same,” he says.

Shintaro shake his head. “They’re not,” he replies.

Takao stands, stretching, bones popping into place, and strolls over into Shintaro’s personal space. Shintaro would move, but he needs Takao to help him pick out new shoes. Also, he doesn’t actually mind if Takao is in his personal space; he just likes to pretend that he does. Admitting he actually enjoys the warm, sometimes overbearing presence so near him would be disastrous; the boy already hung all over him, if he knew he really didn’t mind it, he’d never be able to get him off. 

_Why doesn’t that sound terrible?_ Shintaro wonders. Oh, well, it’s a problem for another day. His horoscope suggests he not think too much today, as over thinking could lead to his downfall. So he simply won’t think about it.

“Oooooh. I see. This one’s got two bands around this bottom and this one’s only got one.”

Shintaro nods, glad he could see the obvious difference.

Takao snorts. “Seriously? It doesn’t fucking matter. They’ll both look great.”

“But, which one will look _better_? It has to be perfect.”

Takao shakes his head. “Everything looks perfect on you anyway,” he mutters, crossing his arms and looking away.

Shintaro goes silent. He knows that’s completely untrue, but…somehow hearing Takao say that, and maybe Takao even _believed_ that…well it made Shintaro…happy.

“Oh,” he says, glancing at the shoes. Suddenly, he can’t really tell the difference. Maybe he was over thinking after all. “I’ll just get these,” he says, choosing one at random (something he never does) and heading for the register.

Takao follows close behind, as always.

Instead of asking him to move, or snapping at him, Shintaro takes a healthy step closer to him on the way out. 

Takao looks him up and down and Shintaro fights the violent blush creeping up on his face. “Aww,” Takao says finally, looping his arm casually through Shintaro’s. He tenses, but doesn’t move. “You have no idea what to do with compliments, do you?”

Shintaro sputters at him, unable to confirm or deny it.

Takao pats his arm playfully, smothering a cackle that’s probably working it’s way up his throat. “Oh, Midorima-kun,” he says, shaking his head. He sighs slightly and says something Shintaro probably wasn’t meant to hear, but the wind decided to take his words right to Shintaro’s ears; a stroke of luck earned by his decision to not overthink, no doubt: “Stop being so fucking cute.”

Shintaro can’t help himself. He pretends he didn’t hear. “What?”

Takao looks at him, silver eyes all fake innocent and smiley. He has nice eyes, Takao. Like pools of water in moonlight, but surely they haven’t always been _this_ nice?

“Oh, nothing,” he says, patting his arm again, a phony grin on his face. “Nothing, nothing at all.”

And Shintaro smiles to himself. “I didn’t really notice before, but you’re pretty cute too, Takao.” 

The flabbergasted sputtering this earns him is well worth the embarrassment of admitting it aloud. Shintaro just watches in amusement as Takao tries, and fails, to fish out a response to that, silently appreciating the day’s horoscope because, as always, it was completely correct. 

He could honestly get used to the whole, not-over-thinking thing if it meant Takao was rendered speechless and pink. 

Yes, indeed. 

He walks with new purpose, random shoes in one arm, and random Takao in the other and he could get used to walking just like this.

Yes, indeed.

###### Song:

 _I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)_ by The Proclaimers


	3. You're Awful/I Love You (KuroMomo, AoKaga)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the Kuroko x Momoi ship name "KuroMomo?" or is it like "KuroMo?" "KuroMoi?" Huh. *ponders*

Aomine-kun and Kagami-kun are fighting. Again. _As usual._

Tetsuya sighs, as does the girl hanging off of him. “Oh, Tetsu,” Momoi moans. “Why can’t they just get along?” 

“They’re too much alike,” Tetsuya says loud enough for the two idiots to hear him.

Both of their heads snap back in unison. “I’m nothing like him!” they say and then glare daggers at one another.

Momoi rolls her eyes at them. “How about some lunch?” she grits, her pretty face contorted into a look of repressed annoyance. Still pretty though. Tetsuya’s not entirely sure how he feels about Momoi sometimes. She’s obviously beautiful, but that’s not what Tetsuya likes. 

She’s smart. He likes that a lot. And he finds that when she isn’t gushing over him, she’s actually a lovely person to talk to. More so that idiot number 1 and idiot number 2 over there.

Tetsuya would swear he sees Kagami’s ears twitch at the mention of food.

“I want lunch,” he says.

Aomine hits him for no apparent reason. “We know,” he says.

“Don’t hit me, _Aho_ mine!” Kagami growls at him.

“Don’t be such a fucking idiot, _Baka_ gami!” Aomine snaps back.

Tetsuya’s hand almost finds it’s way to his forehead in annoyance, but he scolds the face palm into submission. 

If only they would get along.

Honestly, they could be the best of friends, really. If they’d stop being so dumb, but - and he watches them bicker on the way to Maji burger for a bit - that doesn’t look like it’ll happen anytime soon.

Once there, Kagami orders an inordinate amount of food, Aomine glares at him and orders just as much to spite him, Momoi gets a salad, saying something about a diet and her weight, to which Tetsuya replies that she looks perfect at the weight she is, sending her into a fit of mad blushing and giggles, the idiots roll their eyes at them (and really have no right) and Tetsuya gets a milkshake.

“You really think I look fine?” Momoi whispers seriously.

Tetsuya nods. “Yes, Momoi-san. I think you look good. Why do you feel the need to diet?”

“Just…someone told me I was fat,” she says unhappily, looking away.

Tetsuya frowns. How rude. He places a hand on her shoulder. “They’re wrong,” he says. “You’re beautiful.”

Momoi stares at him and than giggles to herself. “Oh, Tetsu,” she sighs, bringing him into a bone crushing hug. The girl’s surprisingly strong, though Tetsuya feels no need to complain, even as he feels his arms bruising.

The idiots aren’t paying them any mind as they argue over…something. Honestly, Tetsuya doesn’t care. He sips his milkshake and watches their mannerisms instead. The way they lean into each other when then talk. The similarities in their expressions and the differences in their inflections. That tendency they have to disagree on point after point until they run into something they agree on, and then they start grudgingly discussing it. 

Somewhere along the way it turns into a full on conversation that doesn’t involve arguing.

Tetsuya tunes back in to find that their talking about their shared taste (and size) in shoes. He smirks to himself, tuning them out again and looking over at Momoi, who’s studying them with the same intensity as she would a game of basketball.

Aomine’s always looking at Kagami, even though he pretends he isn’t looking, and Kagami does the same thing and yet, they never catch each other. Or maybe they do and they pretend they don’t. Maybe it’d be awkward to mention they’re practically always checking each other out when they’re together, on and off the court, because Tetsuya is pretty sure that’s exactly what Aomine’s doing when he stares at Kagami’s ass, and what Kagami’s doing when Aomine turns his neck and Kagami stares at it like he wants to take a bite. 

They’re like two hungry wolves who refuse to even admit they’re wolves, let alone hungry ones. It’s frankly the most annoying thing Tetsuya’s had to deal with in a long time. Why can’t they just have sex or something and stop driving him nuts?

When they’re all finished they get up and leave, intending to stop by the courts so Aomine and Kagami can blow off some of their never ending steam. Honestly, how do they not realize they’re similar in all the ways that count? They’d actually be great together. Or awful. But _together_ is what’s important here.

They walk close together, standing in each other’s space unconsciously. Aomine’s hand creeps up around Kagami’s shoulder, tugging him closer to piss him off. Kagami slaps him away before, all of two seconds later, he’s doing the same thing. It’s actually ridiculous. Tetsuya feels his eyes threaten to roll, and he struggles to maintain his neutrality.

“They don’t get it do they?” Tetsuya muses.

Momoi, ever the observant one, cocks her head to the side and says, “What, that they’re totally in love?”

Tetsuya wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but “Yes. That.”

She shakes her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger on one hand, and squeezing Tetsuya’s hand with her other. “I know. They’re too stupid, I guess,” she says loudly.

The idiots turn. They’ve got their arms around each other for whatever reason. Tetsuya doubts they even know why; they probably don’t need an excuse to touch each other. “Who’re calling stupid?” they ask in unison. 

Momoi sighs. “Oh, Tetsu,” she says.

###### Song:

 _Love Me Dead_ by Ludo


	4. Sweet, Sugar, Candyman (MuraMuro)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just wanna say thanks so very, very much for the comments on the past few chapters! They made my fucking day! To show my gratitude, here's some fluff to rot your teeth. Enjoy!

Atsushi moans unhappily. “Muro-chin,” he groans.

Tatsuya, currently perched on the edge of Atsushi’s bed, engrossed in an american novel, turns around to look behind him at his tall friend fondly. “Yes?” he replies innocently.

“Want candy,” Atsushi moans.

Tatsuya frowns. “No. The dentist said you have to cut back.”

“But I want it,” he whines in his deep, drawling whine. Tatsuya has to fight a smile.

Atsushi’s 6’10’’ and yet, he behaves like a small child. It’s unendingly amusing to be honest, how such a large guy could be so childish and innocent.

As if the prove a point, Atsushi scoots closer to Tatsuya and wraps his long arms around his middle, rubbing his face into his back. Tatsuya represses the urge to say “Aww.”

“I haven’t had any all day, Muro-chin.”

“Oh? Really?” Tatsuya says, disbelievingly. He’s almost certain Atsushi snuck candy at some point. Unfortunately, Tatsuya can’t watch him 24/7, even if he really wouldn’t mind doing so.

He feels Atsushi shake his head against him. “No, Muro-chin. No candy today. Can I have a piece?”

Tatsuya sighs and holds up his index finger. “One,” he says sternly. He knows Atsushi will listen. For some reason, he actually does that now.

Atsushi almost smiles. His eyelids lower in contentment and Tatsuya would almost give him another just for being such an adorable lug. 

He digs around in his pocket for a candy and hands it back to him.

He hears Atsushi sucking happily on it, laying his head against his back again. 

Tatsuya sighs. Why he’s always with Atsushi, he isn’t sure. He’s not the usual kind of guy Tatsuya would hang out with, but it’s like having a kid and large pet at the same time, and not in a bad way. More of a…comfortable way. Atsushi presence is something he likes to have around. All the fucking time apparently, because here he is in his dorm room, _again_.

Tatsuya leans back into him, patting his head as a poorly disguised excuse to touch his hair.

Something to know about Atsushi: he’s got the softest hair in the whole world; like fine strands of silk, but _better_. His head’s warm and Tatsuya would love to just bury his face in it forever. Frankly, Tatsuya just likes the idea of keeping Atsushi around forever. 

He imagines everything would always be warmer and cozier and _sweeter_ that way. He sighs, getting a whiff of Atsushi’s shampoo, which, fittingly, smells like lavender and, oh yes, Tatsuya could just lay here until the end of time.

Atsushi pulls him back onto the bed, muttering that he’s sleepy, and keeps his arms around him, holding him as one would a stuffed animal, and it makes Tatsuya feel small, but it also makes him feel special.

“Muro-chin,” Atsushi mumbles against his hair.

“Yes, Atsushi?”

“Mmm…more candy?”

“No, Atsushi. I don’t want you getting any more cavities.” He pats his hand, conveying his apologies. Atsushi recently had yet _another_ cavity filled in, the dentist was comically flabbergasted at the shear amount of cavities in his teeth and also the complete lack of _caring_ on Atsushi’s part. As soon as he was done, he asked when he could eat candy again.

Atsushi whines some more, but doesn’t ask again, maybe beginning to understand why he can’t have it. Maybe just not wanting to upset Tatsuya. Either way, it’s a step in the right direction. 

At some point, Tatsuya falls asleep. When he wakes he’s still cuddled in Atsushi’s warm, quietly snoring embrace. He smiles to himself, thinking how he could get used to sleeping in his arms, and turns around, pulling another candy from his pocket and placing it on the pillow next to Atsushi’s head. He burrows into his shoulder, like he’s making a little home for himself, and falls promptly back to sleep, breathing in the sent of lavender shampoo, face against hair much softer than any pillow.

###### Song:

_Candyman_ by Christina Aguilera


	5. Baby, I'm a Sociopath/Sweet Serial Killer (AkaFuri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand this chapters about a 100 words too long. Oh, well, I was having too much fun.

Kouki hefts one of the grocery bags over his shoulder, panting at the weight.

He wishes he had a bike or a scooter or something; walking home with all these groceries is harder than he wants to admit, even though he tells himself he could use the workout.

He sighs. Just a few (twelve) more blocks to go.

He hears a car horn behind him, just a quick beep, like someone’s trying to get his attention. But it can’t be _his_ attention. Nobody in a car would want his attention. He’s nobody really.

Still, he turns, despite himself.

And nearly drops every single bag of groceries.

Leaning casually out the window of an expensive black car is none other than the scariest human being Kouki has ever met.

Akashi Seijuro.

Kouki fights the urge to scream and run in the other direction.

What the hell could _Akashi fucking Seijuro_ want with _him_? Other than to cut him up into little screaming pieces with his scissors, of course. That’s the only thing he could want with him. 

“A-a-a-kashi-kun?” he stutters.

Akashi stares at him, head resting in the palm of his hand, looking so calm and cool, obviously very adept at hiding the madness underneath. 

Despite his looks, Kouki knows the insanity is there. He’s seen it. 

“Furihata Kouki. I was wondering when our paths would cross again,” he says in that _voice_ of his. The one that sends shivers down Kouki’s spine…because it’s terrifying of course. Not because, if you listen to it a certain way, it’s actually kinda sexy. That’s not why.

“W-w-were you?”

“Would you like a ride?” Akashi asks, staring at him with his mismatched eyes.

Kouki is caught off guard. His arm muscles scream “yes,” but what if Akashi is planning on kidnapping him, killing him slowly, and then dumping his remains in a ditch where no one will ever find him?!

Akashi doesn’t take his eyes off of him, and those eyes…they compel him. If anyone asks, Kouki was absolutely mind-controlled into that car.

“Ok,” he says, hesitantly. 

Akashi opens the door and scoots over to make room for Kouki, who dumps the groceries on the floor around his feet without finness and just enjoys the feeling of weightlessness that comes with the lose of his burden.

“What’s your address?” Akashi asks, inclining his head toward the driver. 

Akashi has a driver. 

God, he must be rich as hell.

Kouki rattles off his address to the driver, trying not the think about the fact that now, Akashi will know where he lives.

They set off in silence before the awkwardness (and it’s probably just awkward to him, because Akashi looks completely calm) takes over.

“So, um, thanks for the ride,” Kouki says, glancing at Akashi from the corner of his eye.

“You’re welcome,” Akashi replies. “I’m pleased I ran into you.”

“Oh, uh, why?” Kouki asks, terror mounting. 

Akashi turns to him, pinning him to his seat with his eyes. And it’s not just the eyes either (though it’s mostly them), but Akashi’s really kinda hot, in a scary, sociopathic kinda way and it makes Kouki really uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know why he noticed.

Akashi, looking for all the world like an emperor, from his perfectly tailored suit to his seemingly brand new, shiny leather shoes, says, “I remembered you. And I don’t normally remember people so inconsequential.”

Kouki looks down. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that that stung, but at the very least, it doesn’t seem like Akashi will kill him.

He continues. “I was pondering why I would remember you. I wanted to figure it out.”

Kouki glances at him, deciding that looking at him directly is a bad idea. He gets kind of lost in his eyes and distracted by his face and the insane color of his hair and just…everything about him is electric and captivating and he absolutely can not look at him directly for fear of being swallowed whole.

“D-did you figure it out?” he asks.

“Yes,” Akashi replies, breezily.

Kouki can’t help it. He looks at him, genuinely curious. Why would a guy as insanely magnificent as Akashi Seijuro notice a guy as ordinary as Furihata Kouki?”

“You’re ordinary,” Akashi tells him.

Kouki’s downcast again. “I know.” When he looks up again, Akashi is giving him a smile and it’s not quite so manic. It’s almost a normal smile. His eyes aren’t so painfully wide. He’s lowered his eyelids, tilted his head to the side and god, he’s hot. Why’s he so hot? He shouldn’t be. It isn’t fair.

“I mean, you are the epitome of ordinary. So ordinary, it’s almost unbelievable,” Akashi says with mild interest. Kouki’s not sure if he can say anything with an inflection more prominent than mild interest. “I’ve never met someone like you before,” he says. “Ordinary, and yet capable of associating with me. It actually makes you rather extraordinary.”

Kouki blushes and knows it’s misplaced and ill-timed, but continues to blush anyway. “Oh. Thanks?” he says, not sure if that’s the correct response.

“Hmm,” Akashi just hums, closing his eyes and leaning back away from Kouki.

Kouki hadn’t noticed he been leaning towards him until he’d moved away.

He also noticed he hadn’t been breathing until he finally sucked in a big breath of air, immediately making himself dizzy.

Akashi makes him dizzy.

“We’re here, sir,” says the driver.

Akashi opens his eyes. “Hmm,” he hums again. “Farewell, Furihata Kouki. I’ll be sure to remember you.”

Kouki’s torn between wanting Akashi to forget all about him and never look at him again, and wanting him to look at him and only at him for the rest of forever. In the end he just says stupidly. “I’d never be able to forget _you_.”

Akashi tilts his head to the side, his not-insane smile hanging on his face. “Of course not,” he says. 

Kouki gets out and closes the door behind him.

As the car speeds away, he catches Akashi’s eye in the window. 

Akashi’s staring at him, an expression on his face that isn’t quite psychopathic or mildly interested, but something else. Very near…fondness maybe? 

But Kouki shakes his head. That’s silly. Akashi Seijuro is incapable of being “fond” and certainly incapable of being fond of someone as ordinary as Furihata Kouki. 

Still though, Kouki smiles to himself. At least Akashi said he won’t forget him. The thought ties his stomach in knots…due to fear of course. Not because he likes him. No, just fear. 

###### Song:

 _Serial Killer_ by Lana Del Rey


	6. Curled Around You, Babe (AoKaga)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, little too long. Dammit, can't seem to stick to this whole 500-1000 word thing now can I?

Daiki has three favorite pass times: playing basketball, generally making an ass of himself, and taking naps. 

He’s realized as of late that if you add “with Kagami” to the end of any of these things, they become infinitely better. Playing basketball _with Kagami_ , generally making an ass of himself _with Kagami_ , and lastly, taking naps _with Kagami_. 

How he figured this out is a story in it of itself. It’s as follows:

#### In Which Daiki Ends Up Napping with Kagami

Almost nothing on this earth could stop Daiki and Kagami in the middle of a one-on-one, but nature seemed hell bent on doing so that day.

It seemed the very sky had decided to take a well needed piss, and it wasn’t letting up anytime soon. Nevermind the near freezing temperatures, for the stubborn sky piss refused to freeze into snow, hell, even hail might be better than the deluge. 

Maybe.

They’d end up less soaked, but with significantly more substantial headaches should hail come, so before that could happen - or they end up more sopping wet then they already are - Daiki grudgingly proclaimed, “We should get inside. My place isn’t too far from here.”

Kagami, looking like a drowned cat, just nodded, shivering.

They escaped the freezing downpour, wet enough that they drip water all over Daiki’s entryway.

“Sorry,” Kagami said halfheartedly. 

Daiki waved him away. “Whatever,” he said, searching for some fluffy towels to burrow into until he was dry again and the rain stopped so he could kick the idiot out of his house.

“You rich or something?” Kagami mumbled, looking around the foyer (cause he’s got one of those) right before a towel collided cleanly with his face.

“Not really. Not like, Akashi rich,” he snorted. “Akashi rich” being the richest of rich. He wasn’t quite at that level, but his family certainly wasn’t broke.

“Huh,” Kagami said, not bothering to complain really. He was too cold, apparently. The guy didn’t seem to like water much.

Daiki headed into the kitchen, deciding warm drinks to be a good idea. He pulled out two cups and dumped a pack of instant coffee into each, followed by instant hot chocolate and water because he’s too lazy for anything more involved. Then he tossed them in the microwave and waited as Kagami tried, and failed, to maintain his balance while he dried off the bottoms of his feet, their shoes having been soaked clean through.

What a fucking pain.

Daiki watched Kagami struggle, patting his hair dry, thinking about how much of an idiot Kagami is. 

The microwave dinged and he pulled the mugs out before realizing he’d made a cup for Kagami without thinking. 

Shit, now Kagami would think Daiki’s actually nice, or _worse_ , that he likes him, both of which are the direct opposite of true. 

He sighed and, not wanting to waste perfectly good instant coffee/hot chocolate, he walked over to Kagami, who had sometime along the way made the rather intelligent decision of sitting down to dry his feet, and hands him the mug with a “Here, idiot.”

Kagami wrinkled his nose at it like he smelled something foul, which he didn’t because Daiki’s homemade (instant) mocha smells wonderful. “You trying to poison me?” he asked.

Daiki rolled his eyes. Frankly, he can’t blame him. He wonders if it’s too late to pour rat poison in the cup. “Fine, take your pick then,” he said, holding the mugs out to him. Even he’s not stupid enough to poison both.

Kagami looked at him before deciding on the mug Daiki didn’t offer him and taking a small sip. His eyes lit up all big and childlike and he said. “Mmm. Good. You had time to make Mochas?”

“Sure did,” Daiki lied. Why he didn’t just admit to using instant everything in place of actual work is still beyond him. Something to do with the slight swell in his ego at Kagami’s simple appreciation of the drink. He rather just let Kagami be impressed with him for a little bit. He liked that. When Kagami was impressed with him.

Daiki sat beside him, sipping his own Mocha and thinking about the fact that people actually _made_ coffee these days, when instant suits him just fine. He also thought about how, despite how cold Kagami claimed to be, Daiki could feel his heat radiated off him in calm, steady waves and how that was comforting.

He coughed a bit, feeling dumb for thinking something like that.

Kagami glanced out the window. “Still pouring,” he sighed.

“Yeah.”

“Where are your parents?”

“At work, I guess. I don’t keep track of them.”

Kagami looked at him but didn’t say anything else. 

They finished their mocha and Kagami yawned. “Is it weird that I get tired after coffee?” he asked through his yawn.

Daiki, usually quick to jump on the opportunity to insult his rival, just nodded and yawned in kind. “Nah. I do too.”

Kagami blinked once. Twice. Three times. With each blink his eyes stayed shut longer and longer. “Sleepy,” he muttered. 

Daiki, who was getting sleepy just watching him, nodded. “Yeah.”

Kagami slid down on the couch, muttering something about a quick nap.

Daiki followed suit, laying down close to Kagami who was shaping up to be an excellent pillow/heater, and promptly fell asleep.

And it was lovely, wonderful sleep, until he heard a voice. A familiar one. An annoying one.

“Satsuki?” he muttered, opening an eye even while he body protested being woken up. He snuggled deeper into Kagami’s embrace (shit, embrace?). His quiet, cat-like snores tickled his ear. In a good way (ah, fuck).

“Hi, sleepy head,” Satsuki whispered cruelly, not wanting to wake Kagami apparently. “Just hold still, one more.” Daiki regrets giving her the key to his place all those years ago.

“One more?” he muttered not understanding until he sees the phone in her hand, her thumb twitch over the button. “Bitch,” he hissed.

She smirked. “You guys are too cute together,” she puttered.

Daiki glared. “Fuck you,” but it’s half-hearted and sleepy. He can deal with her later, right now…

He turns around, snuggling around the big, warm Kagami pillow/heater and not feeling at all bad about it. He could get used to this.

“Aww…” Satsuki coos. 

In the end, she deleted the pictures, but she also pokes fun at him every chance she gets.

“So, how’s your boyfriend?” she jokes, barely suprressing a grin.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes.

She laughs. “Oh, Dai-chan. When will you get it?”

“Get what?” he grits angrily.

She waves her hand. “Nothing, nothing,” but she sputters with laughter to herself for the rest of the day.

Daiki hates her.

He hates Kagami, too.

But he loves playing basketball with him, being an ass with him, and yes, he loves napping with him too apparently.

###### Song:

 _Midnight_ by Barcelona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saying, I make mochas _exactly_ like Aomine. Meaning instant coffee, instant hot chocolate, and a microwave. Lazy people UNITE!


	7. Kiss From A Rose (KasaKise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CANNOT STICK TO 1000 WORDS AHHH!

“Senpai?”

“What?” Yukio dribbled the ball angrily, though he can’t remember what he’s angry at. Kise’s here. Maybe that’s it. The idiot just makes him angry.

They’re the only one’s there in the gym. Yukio wanted to practice some free-throws, and Kise stuck around just to be a pest. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

The ball lands squarely on Yukio’s foot. “Shit! What?!”

Kise tips his head to the side with a wide-eyed, innocent kind of look, though Yukio always expects that it’s fake. He’d seen the deviousness lurking behind those eyes; he knows better than to trust Kise further than he can drop-kick him (which is admittedly a fairly good distance).

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Kise repeats. Yukio still can’t gauge what he’s getting at.

“No,” he hedges. So what, he’s never kissed anyone. He doesn’t give a fuck.

“You scare people off, don’t you senpai?” Kise asks with a stupid grin.

Yukio feels his face flush. “What? No…I…do I?” he stuttered, suddenly wondering if that’s why girls would always stare at him until he met their eyes. Then they would get this weird look on their face and walk the other direction, whispering. He never knew why, but is his face that scary? He has to ask. “Am I really that scary?”

“Yes,” Kise replies breezily. “But, I don’t mind.”

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t mind,” Yukio mutters, because sure, the blond moron doesn’t mind, but every girl on planet earth seems to. At this rate, he’ll never get a girlfriend. 

“Girls think you’re cute, Kasamatsu-senpai, but when you glare at them like that, they don’t know what to do.”

“Girls think I’m cute? How do you know? Some of your groupies tell you?” he snaps. He doesn’t like Kise’s groupies one bit. Not. One. Bit.

“Yes, actually.”

“Hmph,” he puffs noncommittally.

Kise looks away for a moment at nothing in particular, then “Also, I think you’re cute.”

Yukio glares. Or tries to anyway. It feels a bit wrong on his face. “You…what?”

“Think you’re cute.”

“Why?” he blurts. That’s probably not the right thing to ask. He should probably just kick him for being dumb, but he can’t even raise his foot enough to do so; it’s like he’s rooted to the ground. _Does_ Kise really think he’s cute? Why would he? Kise’s…well…Yukio isn’t blind, he knows Kise’s good-looking…or maybe a little bit more than that. Great-looking. Fantastic-looking. Gorgeous as fuck, really, so why would _he_ think Yukio’s cute? Yukio’s not cute and he says so.

Kise smiles a strange little smile. “Yeah, you are.” Yukio turns impossibly redder. Why is Kise doing this to him? Kise, as if answering his unspoken question, says “I thought you heard, in class. Those girls were talking about us. The team. I just wanted to make sure you knew they were wrong.”

Yukio looks away. _That’s_ why he was angry. He remembers now. Sometimes there are so many things bothering him at once that he can’t remember all of them. “I don’t care what some dumb girls have to say.” It was a lie though. Their words now buzzed around his head like angry bees. _I’d date anyone on the basketball team…except maybe the captain,_ and then they’d giggled about it. He hadn’t cared to hear anymore, so he’d walked away.

“You know, after you left the girl said it was because you were too intimidating. She didn’t think she’d even have a shot.”

Yukio shakes his head. That can’t possibly be true. No girl ever showed interest in him. While other guys went on about the girls they flirted with, the dates they went on, Yukio just sat and grimaced and sulked in his angry, abrasive way, saying it didn’t bother him, but it did. 

“That…can’t be true,” he says.

“It is. And I mean it, Senpai.” Kise looks away again, avoiding eye-contact. He looks giddy, giddier than usual at least, like he can’t contain himself.

It’s annoying as hell. “What?” Yukio snaps at him, needing him to just stop being so…fidgety.

“I’d kiss you,” Kise says kinda quietly, he looks equal parts bashful and cocky, which seems to be some kind of cosmic contradiction, and yet, it looks right on him, as everything does. 

“You’d…kiss me?” Yukio trips headlong over his words. _What?_ What’s Kise even saying right now?

“I would.” He snaps his eyes to Yukio’s then, fast and intense. “Can I?” he asks, both hesitant and resolute.

Yukio sucks in a labored breath. Kise is asking to kiss him? Why? Why is this even happening? And why is Yukio saying “Yes?” Breathing it really, like a plea.

Kise puts his hands on Yukio’s cheeks, smiling that weird smile again. And then he leans forward and kisses him, softly at first, and then harder. 

Yukio doesn’t even know what to do. Doesn’t know why he said yes or why his lips are moving against his own will, or why his fingers are in the soft strands of Kise’s stupid blond hair. All he knows is that’s what’s happening.

Kise pulls away, a little breathlessly, eyes bright and wide. “Senpai,” he whispers.

Yukio can’t even choke out a reply, so he just stares at him. 

“Sorry,” Kise breathes.

“For…?” Yukio finally finds his voice.

“I just…really wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Yukio knows Kise can feel his cheeks heat up under his hands, still lingering on his face. “Why?” he has to ask. Yes, why would gorgeous, stupid model Kise want to kiss someone like Kasamatsu Yukio? More importantly, why would Yukio kiss _him_? He doesn’t, would never, could never _like_ Kise. Right?

“I just…I like you, Senpai. Even when you’re mad at me.”

“Oh,” Yukio repeats. But Yukio is such a jackass to Kise, and he _still_ likes him?

“Kise, I…” he struggles to regain some of his composure. He’s the captain, after all, the older one, he shouldn’t be blubbering like a baby. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Kise looks a bit nervous, like Yukio’s going to reject him.

“That I hit you all the time.”

And then Kise looks relieved, grinning widely. “Oh, it’s ok, Senpai, I know you just care.”

“What gave you that stupid idea?” Yukio asks harshly. “I hit you because you’re annoying.”

“Aww…”

“But…” Yukio rises on his toes a bit, brushes his hand through Kise’s bangs and his lips across the other’s. “I do care.”

This time Kise turns into a blubbering little mess, and Yukio feels a bit smug, despite himself. He didn’t know he could ever have the effect on someone. It was strangely empowering, and he needed that.

Confidence restored, Yukio pushes him away. “Now get off me and let me practice.”

Kise whines. “Senpai.”

“And maybe we’ll grab food after.”

“Like a date?” Kise asks, hopefully.

Yukio really, _really_ wants to say no but, “Call it whatever you want,” he says.

“Can we kiss again?” Kise asks.

“If you stop bugging me for five minutes.”

Kise mimes zipping his lips, but two seconds letter, he’s blowing him a kiss, so it kinda ruins the concept. 

Yukio rolls his eyes, schooling his face into a scowl and going back to practicing.

_Girl_ friend? Maybe not, but god, every girl in school is gonna hate him now. 

He smirks to himself. 

Fine by him.

He doesn’t give a fuck.

###### Song:

_Kiss From A Rose_ by Seal


	8. Close Enough to Lose Your Heart (MidoTaka)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesh, correct length this time. Go me. P.S. THANK YOU FOR COMMENTS OMG YOUR COMMENTS MAKE ME SO HAPPY!

Shin-chan is a funny sort of person. Funny in that, while he’s almost never intentionally funny, he is nearly always unintentionally so.

Kazunari loves confusing the hell out of the guy; he loves bothering him. Shin-chan does such strange, off-beat things, and it leaves Kazunari in hysterics.

The only problem is Midorima Shintaro has a dangerous knack for surprising him in the strangest ways. 

Like this one time Kazunari jumped on him to steal his glasses, and he got a glimpse of him, pouty and glasses-less, his hair damp from practice, and he blushed from here to Okinawa. He doesn’t realize sometimes how…attractive Shin-chan really is until it’s too late and he’s blindsided, struck dumb by those green eyes and sulky face. 

Kazunari’s never had a friend he so simultaneously despised and liked and kinda wanted to pounce on daily. It was fun, in an amusing, frustrating kind of way, to have Shin-chan around.

As it was, the two of them spent most of their free time together, negating Shin-chan’s protests that he doesn’t like Kazunari. He obviously does. Also, he’s a lot more self-aware than Kazunari initially gave him credit for. Shin-chan’s words. _I didn’t really notice before, but you’re pretty cute too, Takao_ , they ring through his head, bell-like and insistent, but he can’t tell if he was joking or not. _Does Shin-chan joke?_

Anyway, today, Shin-chan’s lucky item is a stuffed goat. 

Kazunari pokes at it while they lay on the floor of his room and “study.” By study, he means they lounge around glancing vaguely at textbooks and notes and call it that. Or at least that’s what Kazunari’s doing. It got him through high school so far, why stop now? 

Shin-chan on the other hand, _might_ actually be studying, stuffed goat tucked under his arm as he reads. After a while he says, “Stop poking it, Takao.”

“It’s a stuffed goat, what do you expect?” he replies, continuing to poke it.

“You not to poke it,” Shin-chan says sourly.

“Lighten up, Shin-chan,” Kazunari says, moving his poking from the stuffed goat to Shin-chan’s back instead, which he knows is far more irritating.

“Don’t call me that. And don’t poke _me_.”

“Would you rather I poke the goat or you, Midorima-kun?” switching to formal just to mess with him.

“Neither.”

“Not an option,” he stops poking and starts stroking the goats head, like he’s petting an actually living, breathing goat, and not a cheap furry toy. “What about this? Can I do this?”

“No.”

Kazunari moves his hand to Shin-chan’s back, giving it the same treatment as he did the goat. “Goat or you?” Kazunari asks, lightly stroking his spine.

Shin-chan is quiet for a while. “Me,” he says, fiddling with his glasses.

“Hmm.”

They don’t say anything else. Shin-chan goes back to his studying, Kazunari stops even pretending to study, and instead, stares intently at his green haired friend’s back. 

He scoots closer to him, and in a fit of stupidity, wraps his arms around Shin-chan’s neck.

Shin-chan flinches slightly and doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to be breathing before he says, “What are you doing, Takao?”

He shrugs. “Hugging you?”

“Oh.” He turns a page of his text book.

Kazunari lays his head against him and very nearly falls asleep like that, but tries to stay awake for the sake of savoring the moment. He caught Shin-chan at a good time, apparently. Normally he’d have pushed him away long ago, but Shin-chan is full of surprises. 

Eventually, Shin-chan sighs and closes his book. Kazunari peaks up and over his shoulder only to come face to face with, well, Shin-chan’s face.

It takes every once of willpower he has not to kiss him right then and there. 

Shin-chan may be in a good mood, but there’s no way he’d _ever_ be in the mood to kiss him.

Kazunari, in a great display of his awesome mental strength, pulls away from him. 

Shin-chan is still looking at him, question marks in his eyes. “Takao?” he says.

“What?”

“Why did you move?” he asks, pushing up his glasses.

Kazunari's face almost explodes at that, but he manages to keep his cool. Shin-chan, _wants_ him close like that. He can’t believe it. “I didn’t,” he says smartly, right before latching right back onto him. Shin-chan leans into him and Kazunari smiles and turns red. Thankfully, Shin-chan’s opening another book and can’t see him.

“Don’t move again,” Shin-chan says. Kazunari opens his mouth to reply, but Shin-chan keeps going. “My back’s been hurting and you make a very good chair.”

And just like that, the lovely ceiling comes crashing down on Kazunari's head. Of course, Shin-chan was using him, as always. The hell was he thinking?

Right as he’s about to let go and turn around angrily, Shin-chan turns again and stares at him for a beat, before kissing him lightly on the side of the nose. So light, and yet it seared into his skin, almost branding itself there for all to see.

Then Shin-chan turned back around and set about studying again like he didn’t do anything weird at all. 

Kazunari buried his face in his shoulder as if he could smother the blush away. Then he laughs to himself.

“What?” Shin-chan asks, sounding annoyed.

“Nothing. You’re just full of surprises.”

###### Song:

 _Closer_ by The Tiny


	9. I Feel No Shame/I'm in Love, Sweet Love (MuraMuro)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Things got super busy in the college sphere for me and I had little time for writing my basketball babies. But now it's summer and I have too much time on my hands anyway! Thank you so very much for the comments! They are what ultimately got my ass into gear. That being said, this chapter was SO hard to write because Murasakibara is HARD. I did my best. Thoughts are always welcome!

Atsushi doesn’t like many people. 

He could probably name the people he actually likes on one hand. Tolerates, on two. Maybe.

He can narrow the _things_ he likes down to one: junk food.

He likes nothing more.

Or, at least he _thought_ there was nothing he liked more.

He dreams about food. He wakes up wanting food. He goes to sleep wanting food. He thinks about food while he’s eating food and when he’s not eating food. He’s not sure why.

It’s always been there for him, maybe. Supporting his absurdly large frame when nothing else would or could.

He trusted his food to taste good, to take care of him, to be there when he needed it.

Maybe it was a lonely existence, but he didn’t care. He never cared about much of anything really but-

He looks over to his left.

Muro-chin is bundled up in a coat, nose and cheeks pink in the cold (kind of like bubblegum), and little puffs of air appear in front of his face with every breath (kind of like cotton candy).

Atsushi wants to pick him up and cuddle him against the cold.

Muro-chin is too small and pale to be out here. Or at least that’s what he thinks.

Atsushi knows Muro-chin is strong and fast and can take care of himself just fine. But sometimes Atsushi wants to carry him anyway. The same way he carries his snacks in his arms. And he doesn’t want to share. At all. 

Muro-chin and his snacks have a lot in common.

It might be weird, but Atsushi really doesn’t care.

“Tatsuya?” a voice calls from in front of them. 

Atsushi doesn’t really want to be here right now, at the Winter Fair. There are too many people around, but Muro-chin asked and Atsushi didn’t want to say no. Didn’t know how to. But he much rather be back in his dorm, preferably sleeping with Muro-chin in arms reach. 

Now someone’s calling for Muro-chin and it sounds like a girl and Atsushi doesn’t like it much. He frowns a little more than usual.

“Tatsuya!” A blond woman comes bounding up to him, big boobs bouncing, as she throws her arms around Muro-chin. Atsushi frowns some more.

“Oh, hello Alex. Nice to see you,” Muro-chin says politely. He looks happy to see her. Atsushi doesn’t like this either.

The blonde woman, Alex, turns and looks up at Atsushi then: “Wow!” she exclaims. “You’re even bigger in person!”

“Atsushi, this is Alex, my former teacher. Alex, Murasakibara Atsushi.”

Alex nods. “Nice to meet you,” she says, boisterously. She glances at Muro-chin and smiles. “He’s cute. For a guy.”

Muro-chin rolls his eyes and he might be just a tiny bit pinker, but Atsushi isn’t sure. He wonders what she means by “for a guy.” 

Alex pokes Muro-chin. Atsushi tries not to be bothered by this, but he doesn’t like other people touching Muro-chin. “I’m serious. You and our idiot Taiga sure know how to pick ‘em. Don’t you boys?”

Muro-chin rolls his eyes some more, but he’s _definitely_ pinker now. “Not that you would know,” Muro-chin says, calm despite the color of his face.

She waves her hand dismissively. “I like girls, but I’m not blind.” _So that’s what she meant._ Atsushi’s mood improves significantly. “You’ve got your big, cute purple friend, and Taiga’s got mister tall, dark, and complete jerk-wad."

Muro-chin screws his face up. It’s cute. “Tall, dark, and jerk-wad? You mean…Aomine?”

“Hell yeah. Who the fuck else could I be talking about? Honestly?”

“But, they’re not…” 

“Pfft. Not what?” She shakes her head. “Boys,” she mutters. “So dumb. If they’re not doing the nasty, then they definitely _want_ to be. It’s written all over their…well, everything, actually.”

Muro-chin shakes his head and makes a face. Then he looks up at Atsushi like he has some kind of opinion. He doesn’t care either way. He just likes that Muro-chin’s looking at him right now. He also likes whatever it is that Alex-chin is implying about him and Muro-chin right now. He doesn’t say anything, though.

“You’re crazy,” Muro-chin says.

“Yup. But I’m also totally right. As usual. Well,” she claps her hands once. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”

“We’re not-“ 

Atsushi decides to say something this time. “That’s alright,” he says mildly.

Muro-chin turns completely red this time (like strawberry jam), and actually sputters.

Alex-chin can’t stop laughing. “Oh, shit Tatsuya, your boyfriend’s way smarter than you and you don’t even realize it.” She laughs some more.

“Boyfriend?” Muro-chin stutters.

Atsushi likes the way it sounds.

“Alright, alright, I’m done,” Alex-chin says. “I’ll see you. Nice meeting you, Atsushi. Take care of him.”

“I will,” he says quietly in response. Because he _will_. He likes to.

Alex-chin disappears into the crowd and Muro-chin blinks after her for a second before turning to Atsushi.

“What just happened?” he asks. He looks uncertain, wide eyed and really, really cute.

Atsushi shrugs. He doesn’t know either. He wasn’t really sure if anything in particular happened just now.

“Date? Are we…on a date?” Muro-chin asks.

Atsushi nods and opens the bag of potato chips he’d stuffed into his jacket before they left. He’s always been under the impression that they went on dates.

“Are we…boyfriends?”

Atsushi shrugs at that, chewing on a chip rather thoughtfully, and not answering.

Muro-chin is quiet for a long time. 

They walk around a little more before Muro-chin says, “We should head back. I’ve got some homework to finish.”

Atsushi nods.

Muro-chin, hesitantly, takes his hand and even through the glove, Atsushi feels that it’s cold so he squeezes a little tighter, hoping to warm the hand up.

“Atsushi?”

“You’re hand’s cold.”

“Oh...Come down here for a second.”

Confused, Atsushi leans down a little. 

He’s surprised when Muro-chin kisses him, but not _that_ surprised. Boyfriends kiss each other, so it’s not weird. 

What’s weird is Muro-chin’s the best thing Atsushi’s ever tasted. Better than all the sweets and chips and cookies and jam he’s ever had _combined_.

He trusts Muro-chin to take care of him, and he takes care of Muro-chin. Muro-chin’s there when he needs him, and Atsushi can’t imagine not being around Muro-chin. And Muro-chin tastes wonderful and Atsushi hopes Muro-chin thinks _he_ tastes wonderful.

Muro-chin’s better than junk food, he realizes, because food’s never gonna love him back, but maybe Muro-chin will.

Muro-chin pulls away, pink again, but looking like his usual calm self. He smiles.

Atsushi smiles back.

He has no idea what happened to the rest of his chips, but right now, he can’t be bothered to care.

###### Song:

 _Sweet Love_ by Anita Baker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Alex. I do. Is it obvious?


	10. On me Dit Que le Destin se Moque Bien de Nous (AkaFuri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title translates to: They Tell Me Fate Mocks Us
> 
> If anyone's chapter would have a title in french, it would be Akashi because he's a classy son of a bitch. And I needed an excuse to use one of my favorite french songs. 
> 
> I believe fisukisuki wanted some more AkaFuri and _I_ wanted some more AkaFuri, so here's some more AkaFuri! Enjoy!

Seijuro leans back in his chair, cup of tea in hand, and stares at the darkness. His father didn’t join him today, which he doesn’t mind much. Solitude suits him just fine, and it gives him time to think.

He hasn’t dedicated as much thought to the anomaly known as Furihata Kouki as he’d like to, however, at the same time it seems he’s expended far too much energy on him.

Strange. 

It’s like Furihata-kun is _made_ of contradictions. Or perhaps he’s so average, there’s no contrast at all to be found within him. The contradictions are an illusion. But that in it of itself is odd, really. The very fact that Seijuro can’t quite expel him from his mind is worrying. Or intriguing. It probably doesn’t matter.

Furihata-kun isn’t ugly, but he isn’t particularly handsome either. He’s not soft spoken nor is he especially loud. Not introverted nor extroverted. He hovers in some other space _between_ concrete facts and ephemeral perceptions. And it’s a place Seijuro has, admittedly, never been before, nor knew even existed.

He should find this agitating, but his lips curve into a small smile.

_Utterly fascinating._

He puts down his empty tea cup, and stands.

Thinking on it won’t help at this point. He’s already established all the facts in his mind. Right now, he needs something solid to quantify it.

He must look at Furihata-kun as some kind of obstacle to overcome, beat into submission, _win over._

Yes. Win.

He must win over Furihata-kun somehow. And Seijuro _always_ wins. It’s only a matter of finding the best course of action to do so. 

Seijuro grabs a jacket and heads outside, sliding into his car, driver already in place, of course.

“Take me to Furihata-kun’s residence, please.” He assumes the driver remembers the address.

“Yes, sir.”

Seijuro looks out the window at the cloudy sky and contemplates the nature of fate. 

Was it fate that he met Furihata-kun that day? Was there some reason for it? Perhaps unraveling the mystery of Furihata-kun would add something to Seijuro. If he could overcome him, he would be better. _More_ certain. _More_ absolute. _Victorious_.

The driver stops in front of the average looking house Seijuro knows to be Furihata-kun’s. 

“Thank you. Stay here,” Seijuro says as he steps out.

“Of course, sir.”

Seijuro hasn’t quite come up with a plan of attack yet because he doesn’t know enough about Furihata-kun just yet to come up with a impenetrable plan. He won’t make any mistakes, so he’ll observe first.

He knocks on the front door. 

“Coming,” he hears, and it’s definitely Furihata-kun’s unmistakable, unbearably average voice. The door opens a second later and a flicker of fear and something so quick even Seijuro manages to miss, flashes across Furihata-kun’s face.

“Akashi-kun,” he says without stuttering. Interesting. He seems to have grown more used to Seijuro.

“Furihata-kun,” Seijuro replies. “Good morning. You’re not busy are you?”

“Ah…no, I was just washing dishes. Uh, what are, um, you doing here?”

Seijuro tilts his head to the side. He could be honest, but he’s not sure that would draw Furihata-kun in any closer, and he needs to get a closer look at him. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought I would stop by,” he says pleasantly, the lie rolling off his tongue, slick as oil.

“Oh…uh…do you…wanna come in?” He sounds like he can’t decide whether he really wants that or really wants to ask the exact opposite. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Furihata-kun steps aside and Seijuro passes by him into the house. Furihata-kun smells like dish soap and grass after the rain.

It’s pleasant. And surprisingly not average. He smells _good_.

Seijuro files that information away for later.

“Do you live alone, Furihata-kun?”

“Uh, mostly. My parents travel a lot so they leave me alone to take care of the house.”

“I see.” There are a lot of plants around. That’s probably why he smells like grass. He takes care of the plants.

“P-please. Sit. Anywhere,” Furihata-kun says, back to stuttering a little, which is obnoxiously endearing. Seijuro takes a seat. “Can I, um, get you anything? I mean…actually, I don’t have much food left,” he signs into the fridge. “I’m gonna have to make another run to the store soon.”

Seijuro looks around.

It’s not a small house, and Furihata-kun takes care of it all by himself. The last time he saw him, he was carrying groceries.

Seijuro smiles, an idea lighting his consciousness. “What are your plans for dinner?” he asks.

“Huh? Oh, I…well actually I have no idea. I was planning on going to the store today.” Furihata-kun frowns, eyes going a little squinty. 

Seijuro nods. Exactly the answer he expected. “How about I take you to dinner then?”

“I…what?!” Furihata-kun sputters comically for a second. 

Seijuro already knows he’ll accept. It’s the perfect plan. Furihata-kun cleans and cooks and gardens. He never has anyone serving _him_. So the very idea of taking the night off in favor of an expensive restaurant is too tempting for him to refuse.

“A-are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Well…ok then. T-thank you, Akashi-kun.”

Even knowing he’d say yes, it’s strangely gratifying to hear him say it. Seijuro isn’t entirely sure why, so he files that away for later as well. “You’re welcome, Furihata-kun. I’ll be back later to pick you up. Say…6:30? I’ll make the reservation for 7:00.”

“Sure. Is it…uh, fancy?” he asks, looking simultaneously bashful and excited.

Seijuro’s at a loss for words for a split second, every thought flying solidly from his mind. 

He blinks once, confused by the momentary glitch before saying, “Quite.”

Furihata-kun smiles nervously. “Right, I better get dressed up then.”

Seijuro receives a fleeting mental image of Furihata-kun in a tuxedo. He knows he probably doesn’t own one, and that will have to be rectified. Seijuro will have to put a call in to his tailor after dinner. A dress shirt will do for now, but Seijuro doesn’t much like the idea of Furihata-kun not owning at least one tuxedo. What if he asks him to a gala? Which, strangely enough, Seijuro has already planned to do. Furihata-kun as his date to a gala would be unendingly interesting.

Seijuro says none of this. Instead he settles for, “I suppose so.” He turns to go. “I’ll see you tonight, Furihata-kun.”

“Y-yeah. See you tonight.”

Seijuro turns and leaves, smiling to himself. 

That went well, of course, this winning over of Furihata-kun. Not exactly his usual method of controlling people, but certainly very effective. 

He would just have to be extra careful is all. If he’s not, Furihata-kun might end up controlling _him_ and we can’t have that now can we?

###### Song:

 _Quelqu'un M'a Dit_ by Carla Bruni

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Furihata in a tux? Slicked back hair? I think that'd be pretty nice. I think Akashi would agree.


End file.
